Dragon Ball U
by thedock.j2
Summary: In a parallel world, one man strives to save his world and the people he loves at any cost. But will he be able to overcome the forces of darkness? He can't do it alone, but he'll gain many friends throughout his adventures. Can they stop the many threats that haunt not just his planet, but the entire universe! Find out, in Dragon Ball U!
1. Episode 1: The Story Begins!

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, Dragon Ball Super or Dragon Ball Heroes.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: In this story you will see names and characters that will be familiar to some of you, please keep in mind that some of these characters have completely different upbringings to their canon counterparts. Some things may not make clear sense at first, there's a good chance that's intentional. I will try to not be overly descriptive, nothing paints a clearer picture than your own imagination after all. Other than that, please enjoy my first ever published chapter!**

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**Chapter 1:** _The Story Begins, __a__n Unidentified Falling Object?!_

The Moon lazily drifted across the desert sky, full and bright, showering the vast expanse of cool sands and rock formations with its light. An old man, still proud and vigorous like he was in his youth, sits atop one of the many stone architectures in meditation. All was peaceful in the Diablo Desert, until something streaked across the sky akin to a shooting star!

The old man, a martial arts master with the ability to sense a living creatures life energy—their ki—feels a great power coming from the unidentified falling object. He stands up from his disrupted meditation, the disturbed winds of the desert whipping through his hair, and flies towards the rapidly descending object. It's a large, spherical shaped object that flies across the still desert at terminal velocity, intent on cratering anything in its path as it approaches land. The aged martial artist reaches the falling sphere and, by unleashing his inner ki and reaching beyond superhuman levels of strength, catches the falling object.

The old man grits his teeth and pulls on the large sphere, doing his best to slow its descent and prevent anymore holes or craters in his homeland. Drawing upon his inner power, the old warrior manages to slow their fall to a complete stop in the middle of the night sky. Sighing in relief at catching the sphere, the elderly warrior descends with the object, inspecting it as they gently fall to the ground.

The sphere is large, easily reaching the man's collarbone in height, made from a type of metal very similar to steel in appearance and has a circular, red window. It's hard for the warrior to see anything through the heavily tinted glass. As soon as the spherical object touches the ground there's a hiss of pressurized air as the pod begins opening. The desert hermit jumps away from the metal pod, crouching low and readying for battle, but what he sees inside the object confuses and surprises him.

A naked baby, almost an infant, lies cradled in the seat of the now open space pod. He looks remarkably similar to a normal human child—if it wasn't for the full head of hair and the monkey tail. The warrior knew what this baby was, a Saiyan—an alien—a warrior race from beyond the stars! He had fought Saiyans before and knew how ruthless they could be in adulthood, but the old fool had also seen what good Saiyans were capable of under the right circumstances.

"You have arrived at your destination, user Beet." a mechanical, vaguely female voice from the spacecraft breaks him from his thoughts. At the toneless, robotic words of the spacecraft, the Saiyan child—Beet—starts to move, shivering in the cold desert air. Coming to a conclusion on what to do, the elderly hermit bundles the freezing Saiyan babe in his shirt before flying home.

* * *

In the heart of the Diablo Desert, under the light of the full Moon, stands a stone fortress with four giant red kanji painted across the front.

The old hermit, still bundling the infant Saiyan, lands at the entrance to this intimidating fortress and heads inside. Pushing aside a large cloth meant to keep the desert winds at bay and stepping out of the cold, the hermit took stock of the inside. The inside of the stronghold is a complete switch from the outside; lit paper lanterns hang off the walls casting a warm and inviting glow, two vehicles—a hover scooter and a dune buggy—are parked nearby facing the exit, capsules of various sizes lie scattered on workbenches and a large collection of tools sit next to the stairs leading upwards.

The elder, ascending the stone staircase, breathes deeply and makes his presence known to the other inhabitant of the fortress.

"_Cat loves food ye-yeah-yeah-yeah cat loves food ye-yeah!_" the cheeky old man sings as loud as he can, knowing his companion further inside the stone building hates it.

And, true enough to what the aged warrior believed would happen, his best friend and confidant came flying down the hallway—feet never touching the ground. A tiny cat-like creature, barely bigger than his head, with dark blue fur and a cream underbelly flies angrily towards the far-too-amused hermit.

"Yamcha!" The cat-thing screamed in a high-pitched voice, clearly angry about Yamcha's stupid song.

"Hey Puar," the old warrior Yamcha replies with a shit-eating grin, "I've gotta keep my singing voice in shape ya know?" Yamcha is completely unapologetic with a smile so wide it's starting to hurt him.

"You've got some nerve, you know I—" The cat-thing, Puar, is unfortunately unable to continue her tirade as the little bundle in Yamcha's arms chose that moment to bite down on her tail.

Yamcha, for all his years of training and his numerous battles, is ill-prepared for the loud and shrill scream that comes from his friend of 51 years, one month and two days. Wincing at the pain his best friend is in and with ringing eardrums, the experienced fighter dislodges Beet from Puar's abused tail—only to succumb to a similar fate as Beet bites down on his hand instead!

* * *

A couple of hours later a bandaged Puar and a heavily bandaged Yamcha had just managed to put a no-longer-hungry Beet to sleep in a small bed. Saiyans were amazingly violent when hungry after all, and Yamcha used that time to explain the situation to his companion. Throughout the explanation the warrior was making himself comfortable; taking off his boots, scarf, lavender bracers and seating himself in a nearby chair. Puar had already lit a fire in the stove and was preparing tea, so Yamcha simply wiggled his toes and enjoyed the warmth.

"I'm thinking about keeping him." The bandaged veteran says after a silent minute.

"Raising a child takes a lot of work Yamcha."

There was something not right about the way she said that. Yamcha looked towards the kitchen area of their home to see his familiar twitching and trying to fight off a huge grin. The old fighter's eyes narrowed in suspicion, it seemed like Puar was holding in her laughter at something, but what? Yamcha was not the sharpest tool in the shed, so it took him far longer than he would've liked to figure it out.

"Hey!" The insulted desert hermit yelled with indignation.

"Consider that payback for your stupid song!" She was floating in front of the open fridge while talking, wondering what to make for dinner while the tea was brewing.

Puar glanced to the dining table in the middle of the room to see Yamcha still sulking. It was kinda refreshing how after so many years he was able to stay the confident, cocky and immature self he was since she first met him. He's matured, of course, but his core personality is still there and she was eternally grateful for it. Puar wouldn't know what to do if Yamcha let that terrible break-up long ago keep him down. Speaking of Yamcha, the old hermit was no longer relaxing and looked solemnly into the fire.

"Tomorrows the anniversary, huh?"

Puar stopped pouring the tea to process his words.

"...yeah." Her response was very quiet. She never liked thinking about it and the years didn't make it any easier.

She was snapped from her thoughts when Yamcha pulled her into a hug. Puar didn't fight it and cried into his chest, muffling her sobs. The old fool did this every year for her, simply held her as she cried fresh tears. His own tears ran dry years ago, but it still hurt every year. It was after his shirt resembled a giant wet mark on his chest more than it did fabric that she finished crying. Yamcha rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head.

"Feel any better Puar?" The warrior asked.

"A little."

"Come on, let's finish up dinner and we'll talk about the squirt tomorrow."

She didn't reply verbally, simply nodding against his chest. The rest of the night was a blur; the tea was drank, dinner was eaten, the desert winds batted against the fortress and Beet woke up in the middle of the night crying and needing to be fed again. That was probably a sign of things to come. Hopefully good things… hopefully.

* * *

"The room's going to be ruined when we get back."

"It won't."

"It will—"

"It _won't_ Puar!"

Puar had a big smile has she sat on Yamcha's shoulder. The fighter could fly faster than the speed of sound but still insisted on taking the dune buggy Mighty Mouse whenever possible.

"How confident are you in that room you padded?" Puar asked as Yamcha drove across the desert.

"100 zeni." The aged combatant didn't even turn to face her. It became a pass-time for the two around 30 years ago to bet on just about anything. What else would they use the large sums of prize money for?

"You're on!" Puar was already giddy at her assured victory. It wasn't the sum of money that mattered—100 zeni was chump-change after all—but another win was another win in her eyes.

The Sun was high in the sky by the time they arrived. The excruciating heat was unbearable to anyone not used to such high temperatures. A lone obelisk stood defiant against the desert, the winds could not erode this towering stone and the heat could never truly scorch it. This obelisk was the destination Yamcha and Puar traveled to, having left the infant Beet in a—hopefully—Saiyan-proof room.

The obelisk had the same red paint used on it as the fortress, only the purpose and characters were radically different. The kanji on the fortress are motivational, combining together into a phrase that helps teach improvement through repetition. The kanji here though mark this obelisk as a memorial. They knew they weren't really gone, the friends they lost were now in another dimension called Other World. But they weren't here on Earth, and they had been gone for so long.

If only they still had the Dragon Balls! Magic spheres that summoned a wish-granting dragon when you gathered all seven. But the dragon was gone now, called away by some higher power, and the Dragon Balls had become useless stones.

The old warrior cast those thoughts aside and stood before the obelisk, his companion floating beside his head. Every year on the same day Yamcha and Puar would come to this immortalized gravestone to pay their respects. The two hermits climbed back into Mighty Mouse, driving away from the memorial where they mourned their fallen friends. At home they would celebrate the 49th anniversary of the day their lives changed for the better, the day they met a strange child by the name of Son Goku.

* * *

Puar was happily counting her 100 zeni while Yamcha observed the completely devastated room; all of the padding Yamcha had painstakingly set up was torn to shreds, the crib they had on hand from one of their many capsules was nothing more than a pile of splinters, the backup fridge they put in the room was missing its door and at the center of it all was the Saiyan child happily munching on the uncooked slabs of meat that used to be in the fridge.

Yamcha sighed heavily, a migraine most certainly in the future for the old desert hermit, and approached Beet. The young Saiyan had swallowed whole a slab of raw meat bigger than he was by the time he noticed the old man. The aged warrior and the infant alien stared at each other, a disapproving glare meeting an innocent smile—a loud belch destroyed whatever tension was in the room. Yamcha slumped his shoulders with another sigh, he really hoped this wasn't going to be his life now. Just as he was beginning to lament his decision he felt a weight attach itself to his legs. Beet had wrapped himself around one leg and wrapped his tail around the other one, looking up at Yamcha with sparkling eyes and a wide smile.

Yamcha felt a small smile form on his face as he ruffled the infant's hair. A very familiar cloud of smoke drew Yamcha and Beet's attention. Where Puar was floating now stood an elderly woman with deep laugh lines, a cream colored dress, blue hair, a smile full of life and a camera. The shutter snapped, immortalizing the scene in front of her. Puar was looking at the photo when she felt an arm around her waist. The sly Yamcha swiped the camera while pulling her into a side hug, angling it just right to fit all three of them in frame. Puar was laughing as Beet had jumped into her arms while Yamcha smiled for the camera, one arm around his best friend and confidant with their new bundle of joy and headaches nestled between them.

The shutter of the camera snapped taking the first of many group photos for the new family, the raising of a new warrior had begun!

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**~2,000 words**


	2. Episode 2: A Hero's Training!

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, Dragon Ball Super or Dragon Ball Heroes.**

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**Chapter 2:** _A Hero's Training! __Legacy__ of the Z-Fighters._

The Diablo Desert was illuminated by the mid-noon Sun. A thirteen-year old Beet stood in the middle of an open field of burning hot sands, his black, spiked Saiyan hair flowed in the winds and his tail constantly moved behind him. He wore a red gi, that had a small hole for his tail; a long-sleeved, yellow undershirt, with sleeves that reached all-the-way down to his wrists; and a green sash. The kanji of the Wolf School of Martial Arts was emblazoned on the back of his gi. Grandpa Yamcha had stitched this outfit himself—with some help from Grandma Puar—and Beet wore it with pride.

The hum of ki energy sounded through the desert, a dozen spheres of golden energy flying over one of the sandy hills. The spheres of energy flew towards Beet in a spiraling motion, each individual ball spinning violently in every direction.

The young Saiyan leapt upwards, jumping high in the air as the energy spheres gave chase. The boy struck the closest ball with a powerful kick, flinging the sphere back and propelling himself out of the way as the other orbs closed in on where he was, slamming into each other and bouncing back. The energy ball at the tail-end of the spiral swerved off-course to try and ram the youth.

Beet twisted in the air and clasped his hands together, bringing them both down on the ball and flinging it downwards, where it slammed deep into the sands and vanished into the Earth. The spiraling pattern of remaining orbs broke their formation, flinging themselves at Beet in seemingly random patterns.

The young Saiyan dodged, dipped, ducked, dived and dodged as best he could. The heated spheres of ki whizzing past him, missing by a hair's-breadth. Beet entered a downward spiral of his own, spinning head-first as he descended and pushing his ki outwards. The spiraling motion turned the aura of energy into a defensive drill, keeping the spheres from hitting him as he reached the ground.

Beet flipped as he reached the ground, landing on his feet as the eleven remaining ki balls flew towards him. The ki drill only worked in motion, but he had more than one way of dealing with his targets. Taking the stance of his grandfather, Beet roared his battlecry.

"Roga—!" Beet yelled, kicking the first of the oncoming energy orbs, the ki ball flying upwards from the hit.

"—fufu—!" Beet flung the other spheres away with rapid claw strikes, his ki focused in his hands for maximum power. His arms flowed like a river, his wrists locking together as he swung his hands forward in a double-palm strike.

"—ken!" The last energy orb was flung far away, shattering a distant rock formation with it's speed and impact. The sound of clapping came from high above the young Saiyan.

"Very good Squirt!" Yamcha said from his spot, floating high above Beet in the sky. With a wave of his hand the energy spheres vanished. "Let's move on to endurance training and then I've got one more surprise for you today."

"Yes Grandpa!" Beet said, excited to learn.

The two of them stood under one of the giant rock formations, the cool shade keeping the burning desert Sun off their bodies. Beet only came up to the elder warrior's chest, but he was bound to get taller as he got older. Yamcha had eschewed his desert bandit clothes for Beet's training exercises, instead donning his old Turtle School gi. His hair was also shorter, still long enough to warrant being tied back in a ponytail, but no longer the glorious mane it was thirteen years ago.

A flying Saiyan brat that liked to pull on his hair taught him that valuable lesson.

"Now Squirt, just like I taught you. Activate it, then hold it. Drop it for a second and you fail the exercise." Yamcha said, leaning against the stone wall and scratching his gray scruff-of-a-beard. He never could grow it any further than scruff.

"Yes Grandpa."

Beet took a horse stance, feet shoulder-width apart and his elbows tucked in his sides, and began powering up, a blue aura of ki energy expelling outwards from the young Saiyan.

"Remember, restraint is the most important thing to master. If this pile of rock breaks cause you released too much power, than you fail the exercise. Now make me proud Squirt!" Yamcha said.

"Yes Grandpa!"

The aura turned red, as did Beet's skin and even his hair obtained a red tint. The aura expanded greatly, scraping the roof and walls of the rock archway before shrinking back down to its original size. Then it shrank further, flowing back into Beet like it never appeared.

"Hold it now, as long as you can." Yamcha said. "The problem with the Kaioken is it destroys the body from overuse, and can only be used in short bursts. But conditioning your body to the effects of the Kaioken lets you use the technique for extended periods of time, almost like a transformation."

"I know Grandpa. You're distracting me." Beet said, trying to focus on holding the Kaioken instead of what his grandpa was saying. He already knew why he was doing it after all, this wasn't the first time Yamcha had said this.

"Yeah, and any situation where you need to use the Kaioken will have multiple distractions, not just you're old man talking." Yamcha said, pointing a finger gun at his adopted child, the tip of his finger glowing with a sphere of golden energy. "Think fast."

The ki blast flew at high speeds, whipping the wind around in the underbelly of the stone archway and heading for the Saiyan's head. Beet's eyes snapped open and he bent over backwards to dodge the projectile. The ki bullet turned in midair and re-shot itself at the young warrior-in-training.

"If it hits you, you fail the exercise!" Beet's grandpa yelled from his casual leaning against the wall.

Beet turned and twisted, moving significantly faster than earlier as he avoided the small projectile. His focus slipped a little, and his red aura leaked out of his red skin, burning the rock wall beside him.

"Watch that aura!"

Beet leapt forward as he focused, drawing his ki back inside himself and somersaulting over his grandpa's ki bullet. The bullet bounced off the rock wall and flung itself at Beet once more, giving Yamcha a grand idea. The old Z-fighter wasn't even paying attention to his charge, simply letting his fired ki blast ricochet off of everything to try and hit Beet. Instead, Yamcha raised his hands and blocked off the exits with walls of solid ki.

From his outstretched hands, each of his fingers lit up with small ki spheres, before the ten new bullets fired from his fingertips. Eleven golden bullets all ricocheted across the new room like a vicious game of dodgeball. None of the bullets ever hit Yamcha of course, his own, skin-tight aura of ki instead caused them to bounce off of him.

Beet, on the other hand, was in full panic mode. He was flying, dodging, and moving himself in every way he could think of. He had to keep his aura from leaking out of his body during this stupidly stressful scenario. He couldn't drop the Kaioken. Beet had to keep all this in mind while his grandpa just stood there and laughed.

At least the bullets weren't chasing him, instead Yamcha just let them ricochet everywhere. If Beet's grandpa actually tried to have them hit him in this sealed-off room, there was no way on Earth that Beet could've dodged them all.

The exercise only lasted two hours. Two hours of absolute Hell, but Beet did it. The poor Saiyan lay face-down in the sand, his exhausted body drenched in his sweat. Then he felt something cold press against the side of his face, and the drained youth looked upwards at his tormentor and caretaker.

"Here ya go Squirt." Yamcha said, handing Beet a bottle of water. The young Saiyan chugged the bottle, wiping the excess water that dripped down his chin with his arm. "Alright, up-and-at-em Squirt. Ki training's next and then we'll have dinner."

"Ki training and dinner!" Beet said, his earlier fatigue forgotten. The young martial artist picked himself off the ground, his muscles still straining from the Hell he lived through.

* * *

The Sun had begun setting over the Diablo Desert, but there was still plenty of light for Beet and Yamcha's ki training. The two of them had traveled a ways away from Yamcha's fortress and entered a large forest of stone mushrooms.

"This ought to do." Yamcha said, turning to face his charge. "Alright, you already have the basics down and are improving fast. But you still don't know how to hold back on your ki blasts. You've got your aura and the Kaioken under control, but keeping the energy stable doesn't matter if you still fire at one-hundred percent every time."

Yamcha cracked his neck before continuing. "Today I'm gonna show you the extent of my ki control, so you know what I'm talking about. Pay close attention Squirt, this is the second greatest technique of the Wolf School."

Hearing his grandpa say that excited Beet. His grandpa rarely used anything fancy when dealing with monsters, just sticking to the ki strikes of the Rogafufuken or firing small energy blasts. This was going to be monumental to the impressionable Saiyan! Yamcha raised one hand and created a moderate-sized sphere of golden energy. The sphere hummed strongly and spun in every direction.

"This is the Sokidan, my Spinning Ki Bullet." Yamcha said.

"It like what you use for my training!" Beet said.

"Very good Squirt, that's because it is. At the end of the day, energy is energy, and the name isn't entirely important. What is important, is how you shape and use that energy. If you fire in every direction, you might hit something you didn't want, or your attack would be too unfocused and your opponent could just take your blows. On the other hand, if you learn to shape your energy, then only your imagination limits what you can do.

"Now watch!" Yamcha reared back his arm and flung the Sokidan at a far away stone mushroom. The spinning blast approached the giant mushroom at incredible speeds, whipping up a sand trail and buffeting the duo with wind pressure.

As the ki bullet flew to its target, it suddenly swerved around the mushroom at the last possible moment, not a scratch or burn on the stone tower. Yamcha was moving the index finger of the hand that threw the ki bullet rapidly, maintaining his connection to the projectile. Beet watched on in naked awe as the Sokidan flew in seemingly erratic patterns throughout the entire forest.

Beet was smart, he saw that his grandpa was purposefully missing everything. The level of control he needed, to not only keep moving the blast but also miss at the last possible moment? Beet felt so proud in that moment of his grandpa, and felt proud to be taught by someone so amazing in his eyes!

Eventually the Sokidan returned. Yamcha outstretched his hand and the spinning sphere returned to floating over his palm.

"That," Yamcha began, focusing once more on his pupil, "was the second greatest technique of the Wolf School."

"That was amazing Grandpa!" Beet said, clapping in applause. Yamcha rubbed under his nose with his free hand and flashed his signature smirk.

"That's right Squirt! You're old man's pretty incredible!"

"Please teach me Grandpa!"

"Not yet." Yamcha said. Beet slumped and pouted. "It's a dangerous technique to learn and I still haven't shown you _true_ ki control."

"You can do more!?"

"That's right. I've made many variations to the Sokidan over the years, but this one will do nicely for a demonstration." Yamcha took a wide stance, his gray ponytail flowing in the wind as he gripped the wrist of the hand that still held the Sokidan. "This is my Tokudai Sokidan, the Extra Large Spinning Ki Bullet!"

"That's a silly name Grandpa."

"Hush you."

Yamcha took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Lightning danced across his body. The Sokidan changed from its golden color to a stark white. The sparks of lightning ran across Yamcha's body before climbing up his arms and into the Sokidan. His aura flared outwards as a solid, golden light, before shifting into a bright white and flowing into the energy sphere.

It only took a few seconds, but Yamcha was now holding a massive, white Sokidan. Despite its size, it was still rapidly spinning in every direction. Yamcha reared back his hand, the massive orb staying in place, and flung his arm forward. The index and middle fingers of both of his hands were guiding the giant ki ball as it flew with a speed its giant body should not have possessed. It flew right through the mushroom forest, enveloping the giant stones in its body, before flying off in random directions.

Something was off about it though. Unlike the normal Sokidan, there was no pressure from the wind, the sand wasn't getting blown away from its speed, and it left no trail of destruction in its wake. Beet was confused by what he was looking at and rubbed his eyes. Was it some sort of illusion?

The Tokudai Sokidan suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and engulfed Beet in his entirety. The young Saiyan fell to the ground in panic and nearly screamed when he noticed something peculiar. He didn't feel it. More specifically, he _couldn't_ feel the ball's heat. He still sensed its presence, and knew it was right there, but it didn't hurt him in its embrace.

Then the Tokudai Sokidan vanished. Beet looked at his grandpa and saw his trademark smirk.

"What was that?" Beet asked quietly, amazed at how gentle the energy was.

"Ki control. I didn't want to destroy anything, so I didn't." Yamcha said, confident as ever. "Come on Squirt. We're done for the day, let's go eat dinner and then starting tomorrow, instead of endurance training, I'll teach you the Sokidan."

"You will!?" Beet said, scrambling to his feet. Something clicked in his head though. "Wait, you said it was the second greatest, what's the greatest Wolf School technique?"

Yamcha scratched his scruff that he swore was a beard, looking solemn as he stared up at the ever-advancing night sky.

"It's the move that I used as inspiration for the Sokidan. I was taught it once, a very long time ago." Yamcha ruffled Beet's hair as he smiled down at him. "It's called the Kamehameha, and I promise you I'll teach it to you, but I'm not sure if I have the right to teach it."

"What?!" Beet said in shock. "But you're Grandpa Yamcha, the greatest martial artist in the world!"

"I'm glad you think that way Squirt, but even I've had a few masters in my life!" Yamcha said with a smile, a serious look overtaking his face. "But the Kamehameha is not a move to be taken lightly. It uses everything, forcing your ki production into overdrive and burning your ki reserves, for one final attack. It's a last resort that'll either kill or get you killed."

"That's a scary move Grandpa."

"Now you know how I feel after I first used it!" Yamcha said, his smile returning. "I wasn't prepared for the sudden exhaustion and it cost me greatly. But enough about that, let's get some dinner!"

"Dinner!" Beet yelled, raising both of his arms to the sky. The duo of master and pupil, grandson and grandpa, raced each other across the night sky as they flew home.

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**AN: I'm a week late in updating, but life troubles all of us, and cars are apparently fleeting. Read and review!**


	3. Episode 3: A Music Box!

**DISCLAIME**R: I do not own Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, Dragon Ball Super or Dragon Ball Heroes.

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**Chapter 3: **_A Music Box__?! Enter the Son Sisters!_

"Roga—!" Two voices yelled, their voices carrying through the mountains and echoing into the valleys. A swung leg was intercepted by a mirrored version, their shins clashing and creating a shockwave that reverberated across the mountainside.

"—fufu—!" A dozen claw strikes met each other, each one a miniature shockwave that cratered the land around the two fighters. Their arms flowed like rivers, swirling together and locking at the wrist. They both flung forward in a double-palm strike.

"—ken!" The palm strikes slammed together, resulting in an explosion of red and gold energy. The explosion shaped into a sphere around the two combatants, before reshaping itself and being flung in one direction. The giant gold sphere shot towards the mountain, one of the warriors caught in its center, and embedded the fighter in the stone.

The remaining combatant shook his hands and rubbed his shin. Cracking his neck as their passive observer commented.

"He's certainly grown powerful Yamcha." A small man in green and yellow regal clothes said, sitting cross-legged on a swirling black cloud with a cup of tea. His skin was pure white, his eyes huge and rarely shut, and his cheeks had bright red circles on them.

Age hadn't affected him as obviously as it did Yamcha, for he lacked any sign that he was actually an elder in years.

"Is that all you have to say Chiaotzu." Yamcha said. He wasn't even breathing hard from the spar with his grandson.

"Puar's done a very good job in raising him." Chiaotzu took a longer drink of his tea while Yamcha processed what he said. It took him a minute before his eyes widened in realization.

"Hey!" Yamcha said in indignation. "I raised the little Squirt too!"

Chiaotzu giggled and drank more of his tea. The rushing of wind disturbed the trees Chiaotzu sat under. A red sphere shot itself across the sky towards the two masters. The wind suddenly stopped as Beet landed before them, his aura, hair, skin, and tail all red in color.

"Grandpa Yamcha! Uncle Chiaotzu! How'd I do?!" Beet said. He was fifteen-years old now, growing almost as tall as Yamcha. His red gi still fit him just fine, as did his yellow undershirt and green sash. Beet's tail constantly wrapped and unwrapped itself from his waist as he stood there.

"You did fine Squirt, Chiaotzu tell him he did fine!" Yamcha yelled at his old friend.

"You have great mastery of the Kaioken and your use of the Rogafufuken is incredible. Your training is coming along well." Chiaotzu said.

Beet's smile stretched across his entire face. The young Saiyan's aura dispersed and the Kaioken wore off. The sudden wave of exhaustion was expected, but nonetheless still hard to deal with. The 'Shin Kaioken'—as Grandpa Yamcha called it—allowed the user to instantly draw out one-hundred percent of their power and ki without the need to power-up. Even when low on stamina and energy, the Shin Kaioken force its user into a state of full power.

As a result, when used for too long, the Shin Kaioken caused extreme exhaustion as soon as it ended. This was the main technique Yamcha had been teaching Beet the past few years, training his body and ki control to maintain such a technique in both combat and out of combat.

Beet stumbled from the technique wearing off. His eyes drooped and his posture slumped.

"Right, take a quick nap Squirt. We're gonna focus next on—"

Something shifted in Yamcha. His attention was somewhere else entirely. His head tilted slightly, his ear twitched, and his eyes squinted. Something unexpected was on the edge of his senses. Some great ki power had appeared suddenly in the world. Yamcha couldn't recognize who it was, and their power was worrying for such an unknown ki signature.

"Change of plans." Yamcha said. "Stay with Puar and Ran Ran, I need to investigate something." Yamcha turned to his old friend. "If something goes wrong, keep everyone safe."

"Of course." Chiaotzu said.

"But Grandpa—!"

"No Beet, this might be dangerous. Stay with Chiaotzu and keep everyone safe." Yamcha put a hand on his tired grandson's shoulder. "I trust you Squirt, now have faith in your old man." With no more words Yamcha rocketed into the sky and flew towards the new ki signature. In his whole life, Yamcha has never experienced someone that powerful suddenly appear out of nowhere and have good intentions for the Earth.

"He'll be fine Beet." Chiaotzu said, the black cloud he sat on floating closer to the tired Saiyan. "He may be hotheaded, but he knows the importance of back-up plans." The diminutive master put a hand on the young warrior-in-training's shoulder and shook slightly. "Come, Ran Ran and I will make you and Puar dinner, you two can spend the night with us."

"Okay." Beet said, slowly nodding off. "Thank you, Uncle Chiaotzu."

* * *

"This doesn't seem right." Yamcha mused to himself. He found the location of the great power, and it was in a location he would've never guessed. Goku's old home was a small temple near the top of a mountain, with a significantly more modern home placed close-by. The old bandit could feel that the new power was inside the modern house, alongside two other strong ki signatures.

Seeing no reason to barge in, and feeling a rather unwanted guest approaching that would be there any minute, Yamcha landed at the door and knocked politely.

"Just a second!" A young and feminine voice sounded from inside Goku's old home. It wasn't a voice Yamcha immediately recognized. His curiosity didn't go unanswered for long as the door opened.

A young woman stood in the doorway. Her hair straight, black hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, bound together with a familiar looking orange bandanna. Her eyes were narrowed and her face in a permanent-looking scowl. She also wore a blue and yellow gi, with the waist held in place with a white sash and a black undershirt to protect her modesty. Each of her wrists had a pink wristband.

"Hello, can I help you?" She said, her voice not matching her scowl. Yamcha could practically feel the power flowing out of her, barely controlled, and a possible danger to people.

"My name is Yamcha, and I'd like to ask a few questions if that's alright with you?" Yamcha said. The girl's eyes widened in recognition at the name.

"You're the Legendary Wolf, Lord Yamcha of Diablo Desert!?" Her stance changed completely, reminding the aged warrior a lot of his grandson. She had stars in her eyes and looked to have over a million questions to ask.

"Is that the title they call me now?" Yamcha said in amusement.

"You were the best friend of my great grandfather!" The girl said.

That caught Yamcha's attention.

"I know this may sound rude, but who are you?"

"My name is Son Note and I'm the great-granddaughter of Son Goku!" Note said. "I have so many questions, but please, come in and I'll fetch you some tea. My sister's keeping our current guest entertained while he recovers, so please stay quite while inside."

Yamcha nodded along, still processing that his best friend's son had children and he never knew. He didn't think he had been that removed from the family, but still. Yamcha shook away the thoughts while he took his shoes off, setting them aside the door with the other shoes.

"I'm actually here about this 'mysterious guest'." Yamcha said after entering the living room. Goku's house was never big, but Yamcha had never spent much time here.

Note hummed while she prepared tea, wondering how to explain the strange circumstances that led up to finding their new guest.

"How did you know he was here?" She asked.

"I sensed his ki."

"His what?"

"Ki, life-energy, his aura. You don't know how to sense ki." It wasn't a question from Yamcha. "I can sense a person's power and potential. You and your sister have great potential from what I can feel, but it was the suddenness of this guest of yours that drew me from my grandson's training.' Note had turned from the boiling tea to Yamcha as he spoke to her. "His power is incredible, I'm amazed you don't feel it—even if by accident."

The boiling tea started making a great hissing noise, causing Note to scramble and remove the pot from the stove-top.

"Me and my sister, we've always been stronger than everyone else." Note said. "We took to martial arts in an attempt to hone ourselves and follow our great-grandfather's footsteps." A soft smile spread across Note's face as she talked. "Both of our great-grandfather's are legendary martial artists, but we could never find any teachers that could actually teach us. We were just too fast, too tough, and too strong for any master we found."

Yamcha thought long and hard on what he heard. He still was curious to the new guest, but cultivating these prodigy sisters was now his top priority. But Yamcha was no fool, he knew he had no idea how to teach someone other than Beet. So the warrior thought long and hard, when it hit him. He wasn't the last Z-Fighter after all, there were two more that kept the mantle alive.

Note handed him a cup of tea as the two of them sat down in a pair of chairs. Yamcha and Note enjoyed their tea in the tranquility of the Son Family home.

"I might have the solution to your lack of a master, but first you were going to tell me about this guest?" Yamcha said.

Note sighed, seemingly resigning herself to something. "We freed him from a magic music box." Note's eyes were screwed shut, as if awaiting some form of criticism or laughter. When she was met with none her eyes opened warily.

"I fought a demon tyrant that tried to take over the world with an army of mutated monsters once. He popped out of an electric rice-cooker that had a sealing talisman on it." Yamcha explained calmly. His own radical experiences far eclipsed Note's. There were few things that surprised him nowadays. "But, is that all there is to the story?"

Note, still staring at Yamcha's lackadaisical retelling of how Demon King Piccolo nearly conquered the world, shook her head.

"N-no." Note said. "That's pretty much the gist of it. There's a little more but that's… personal."

"Say no more then. I just want a quick conversation with this 'music box prisoner' and then I'll be out of your hair."

"W-wait!" Note said, standing so fast her chair nearly tipped over. The speed she caught the falling chair and set it back down on the floor impressed Yamcha. "How can we contact you?"

Yamcha slipped a hand inside his gi's sash, feeling around for the capsule case he kept on hand. Finding the case, the old man opened the metal case and ran his finger down the numbered capsules. He stopped at one of them, finding the capsule he was looking for. He pulled out the small container and clicked the button on top. A small cloud of pink smoke enveloped the capsule, dispersing quickly and revealing an old style of flip-phone.

"This is a spare phone of mine." Yamcha said. "Me and my partner, Puar, are the only contacts. My grandson keeps losing his only means of ranged communication, so Puar bought a bunch of these replaceable phones to fix that." Yamcha then tossed the phone at Note. "Catch."

She easily caught the thrown object while Yamcha stood from his chair. The old Z-Fighter made his way through the house easily, merely following the ki signature. At the door to the room the music box prisoner was in, Yamcha could feel the two energies inside. The second power was roughly equal to Note's own, and felt almost the same. The elder from the Diablo Desert knocked on the door. The door opened and a surprised girl stood in the doorway.

_ This must be Note's sister_, Yamcha thought. They looked very alike, but also radically different. The unnamed sister had thick, spiky black hair bound in a wild ponytail. Instead of a gi she wore a tight fitting, black leather jacket and a dull pink skirt. The girl blinked repeatedly before narrowing her eyes.

"Who are you?" She asked accusingly. Yamcha was about to introduce himself when Note beat him to it.

"This is the martial artist Yamcha." Note then waved her hands from the old warrior to her sister then back again. "Yamcha, Forte; Forte, Yamcha."

"You're _THE _Yamcha?!" Forte said, her tune changing shockingly fast.

Apparently Goku's great-granddaughters were fans. Yamcha now felt horrible about not knowing about the two of them sooner. The hermit raised a hand, staving off the questions he knew Forte would have.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I need to talk to your guest." Yamcha said

"Oh, sure." Forte said, leaning back inside the room and looking to her side. "Minotia! You've got a guest!"

"I do?" A voice called from further in the guest's room.

"Yeah, now get over here!"

The mysterious power entered Yamcha's view, confirming a couple questions with his appearance alone. His skin was incredibly pale, mostly white with pink-undertones. He wore a burnt orange tunic with a long, bright orange sash tied at his waist. His hair was a reddish-pink and spiky mohawk and he wore a metal headband. A sword in a red sheathe hung from his back and a ceramic ocarina was in one of his gloved hands.

He looked young, but Yamcha was now convinced that whoever this Minotia was, they weren't from Earth. Minotia stepped into the hallway, standing in front of one of the last of the Z-Fighters.

"You wanted to see me?" He asked Yamcha. The elder nodded and raised one hand.

"I need to make sure you're not a threat to Earth."

"Woah, hang on now—!"

"You can't just—!"

"It's fine." Minotia said, interrupting the Son Sisters. "Go ahead Guardian, what trial must I overcome?"

"Guardian?" Yamcha said. "I'm not the Guardian of Earth pal, but I _am_ one of its last defenders. As for the trial, I just need you to relax and let me look through your memories."

"Very well." Minotia said, taking a deep breath. "I'm ready."

Yamcha placed his hand on Minotia forehead. Memories of burning cities came to the forefront, a Demon God of immense power laying waste to an entire species. A great wizard, the Guardian of Konats, struck down the monster and sealed it away in two vessels. The severed half of the Demon God could be kept asleep and unable to return as long as an enchanted ocarina played its melody. These ocarinas, as well as a pair of enchanted swords, were gifted to the vessels, who were then sealed themselves in a music box and sent to the far reaches of the Universe, to forever seal the Demon God Hirudegarn.

Yamcha pulled his hand off the vessel of the lower-half of Hirudegarn, the Demon God of War.

"I'm sorry about your people, I know you haven't had the time to mourn." Yamcha said.

"It's… it's fine." Minotia said, his head lowering and his eyes unable to meet Yamcha's gaze.

"No, it isn't." Yamcha said, placing his hand on Minotia's shoulder and shaking him slightly. "And it won't be. But you're here, and you'll need to keep the pride and memory of your people alive." Yamcha then poked Minotia in his chest. "They'll always live on in you."

Tears started to fall from Minotia's eyes as he cried. The grief he had been unable to feel while dormant in the music box burst forth and he sobbed heavily. He lunged forward and trapped Yamcha in a tight hug, his tears staining Yamcha's gi. The elder patted the young alien on the back, whispering comforting words the whole time. It reminded him of Puar, every year on the anniversary they met Goku she would need his shoulder to cry on.

* * *

"I'll be back tomorrow with the mentors I was talking about, we'll see about getting the three of you honed in your potential and ability." Yamcha said.

The old hermit stood outside the Son Family home. A couple of hours had passed between Minotia's grief and now, with the young warrior staying at the Son house for a time.

"Any specific time?" Note asked, not used to the sporadic nature of her great-grandfather's old friends. Yamcha gave his signature smirk before responding.

"Nah! I'm just gonna show up when I feel like it." Without another word the elder took to the sky, leaving the three to stare in awe as he flew towards the mountains he left.

Another power flew away from the Son Family home, this one went unnoticed by all except for Yamcha. Yamcha stopped in the air halfway to Chiaotzu's mountain hut and waited. He didn't wait long as the person he didn't want to talk to about Minotia finally showed his face.

"Piccolo, you're here." Yamcha said.

Piccolo was larger than any Earthling. He was the man that wore the mantle of Guardian of Earth, becoming the planet's sworn defender. His skin was a solid green, with exposed pink muscles on his arms. He wore a purple gi, with a dark blue sash and red wristbands. This time around, he was also wearing his white and purple turban and his weighted white cape.

"I heard everything and read yours and his mind to get the full picture, but I want to hear your opinion on him. Are you willing to risk letting the monster inside him live, just to give him a sense of happiness?" Piccolo said.

"I am."

"Hmph, then if anything goes wrong it's your responsibility. Don't make me clean up your mess."

And just like that, Piccolo vanished. He used a teleportation technique that returned him Kami's Lookout, a floating platform high up in the sky, that serves as the residence of the Guardian of Earth. Pushing the conversation with Piccolo out of his mind, Yamcha still needed to talk about Minotia and the Son Sisters with Chiaotzu. An interesting musing came to Yamcha as he continued flying to the mountain hut.

_I wonder what Beet would think about them._

* * *

**AN:** I'm about a day late, but I spent most of yesterday preparing for a DnD session that never happened so I lost track of time. I know it may seem like these chapters a bit slow, but the next few should pick up in action and combat!

That's all for now, should have a new chapter or story out come next Sunday!


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